Please Don't be dead!
by Johanna Holmes
Summary: Now it is 4 years ago that Sherlock jumped of the roof of the hospital. And John is still thinking about his friend every minute, even often imagines that Sherlock is still alive... But John needs this pain to keep going, because it just doesn't work without Sherlock...
1. Chapter 1

Please… Don't be dead."

How often did those thoughts fly around in John's head? They were everywhere followed by one picture: a falling Sherlock who landed on the ground with a horrible splashing sound before the hospital. Not moving, not blinking, the damaged head gave the ground a deep red colour. For weeks, months, years John was not able to sleep well, he was haunted by those pictures, led him no time to rest. His therapist had said that he would calm down with the time when he got used to Sherlock's absence and would have moved out of their flat.

But John had not followed those advises, not the first and not the second one.

One could not get used to the absence of Sherlock Holmes when you already knew him. Only this striking face had made an impression on John the first time he had seen it. Dark curly hair on a thin, pale face with those high cheekbones. The slim body, dressed in a black suit with a dark shirt without a tie; Sherlock never liked ties. This rich deep voice in which was still somewhere the sound of warmth. Most of the time it was insultingly, sarcastically or analysing something but it also could give consolation or fun, if the owner wanted this. Oh, how much John missed it to hear this voice that told him that he was an idiot although practically everyone is. But his ears had not heard this voice for four years now, nobody had heard it. Not Mrs. Hudson, not Lestrade, not Mycroft…

To move out of 221B Baker Street was for John an impossible thing to do. He had tried, he had lived in another flat for a few months but that had not worked. John simply needed his old flat he had the feeling that when he was going into it through the house door he would hear at any moment the sound of a violin or the shots of a gun. John had set his heart on that flat there were so many things that reminded him of Sherlock and he needed that. It just did not work without 221B. He also had forbidden Mrs. Hudson to take away Sherlock's stuff. At first he had agreed to give all those things to a school but when Mrs. Hudson had come with the boxes he had strongly strived against that. John just would not let it happen that she took the microscope, the burner or the chemicals. What if Sherlock suddenly needed them again?


	2. Chapter 2

John came back from the supermarket. Sherlock had once again forgotten to buy new milk so he had done it, again. With two over filled bags in his hands that he probably had to carry all by himself up the stairs he managed it to knock at the door of Baker Street. He did not have to wait long; he did not have to for four years now. Mrs. Hudson had hurried to the door and opened it with a smile but when she saw it was just John it disappeared and she led him in with a quiet sob, then she went back into her flat. John looked at her with a slightly confused face then he went up the stairs. John managed it to open the door of their flat on the first floor and went inside. An odd silence greeted him and then he realised it once more.

Of course Sherlock had forgotten the milk he could not get. It was obvious why John had to carry the bags alone, Sherlock could not help him, because he was…

John shook his head to get rid of this thought but it was too late.

Again the film started in his head he saw a gravestone with the words "Sherlock Holmes" on it. John dropped the bags on the ground.

"Please… Don't be dead." He whispered.

He stumbled backwards and fell into an armchair. Immediately he rose from it. It had been the black armchair, Sherlock's place. John slowly sat down on the armchair with the pillow of the British flag and took a deep breath. It had not been the first time that he thought Sherlock was still alive. Sometimes this happened more than once in just one week and every time John sank into lonely sadness. When he then looked around in the flat he could see Sherlock at every place, how he angrily searched for cigarettes or laid bored on the sofa or tried again some strange experiments in the kitchen.

It tortured him so much that every time he saw the Baker Street he automatically saw Sherlock as well, walking around and quickly saying his thoughts for himself. But John needed that, he needed this pain, because without it he would just fall into a dark and never ending hole.

John never had touched Sherlock's stuff he knew how his friend would react. He had never dared to take one of his books even had never dared to take a look into Sherlock's bedroom, because he thought that Sherlock might had hid something in there. It was Sherlock's stuff and John knew very well that he was not allowed to use it, because every single thing for Sherlock had its own special place and when he would need it again he would be able to use them quickly.

As John thought about that he had risen and went into the kitchen. He never really had looked at what Sherlock had placed all there. There were pieces of papers everywhere on which had been scribbled and written very often. Chemicals laid, some of them still opened, beside the microscope just the once which were poisonous John had put away safely into a cupboard. John now stepped closer to the microscope, for a moment he thought about to have a look through to see on what Sherlock had been working. But he had second thoughts and was flooded again by the pain.

But at that moment it felt so good, because he imagined how happy Sherlock would be when he looked through the microscope and could explain to him how he had solved another case. Then he would again walk through the living room and the kitchen, deducing and speaking more to himself than John.

Yes, John really needed this pain that's just how it was. He did not really understand it himself he just knew that he needed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly John went downstairs how he always did it when he left the Baker Street. He did not feel very well, because he was going to visit Mary and that meant that he probably would not come back home this night.

Mary would try to stop him, try to distract him how she always did. Mary knew that John had lost his best friend four years ago and she wanted to help him forgetting. But it turned out that she was not very successful with that but John still was thankful that she tried it again and again and that she did not give him up. But at this evening things should not went so quietly between them as usually…

"Come in, the door is open." Mary's voice said.

John opened the door slowly and entered Mary's flat.

It was a flat about the size of 221B although just one person lived here and always had. Mary had decorated her home very colourfully with many warm shades and some plants. In principle this was the exact opposite of Sherlock's and John's flat. At theirs everywhere laid stuff on the ground, the kitchen was never really clean, on the living room wall was a smiley that had coldly been shoot into the wall; here everything was tidy, nothing had been carelessly thrown on the ground, also the kitchen table was not scratched to pieces and you did not find body parts of a human in the fridge.

On one hand John liked her home, because it was something different and gave him change. But on the other hand this colourful flat sometimes was a thorn in his flesh, because he was already too used to the mess of 221B and this mess also reminded him of Sherlock and he missed that in Mary's flat. Aforementioned now stepped out of her bathroom and greeted him with a kiss on his lips. When she had removed from him she had already noticed that John had again one of his bad days.

"What's the matter John?" she asked in concern. "You have such a glassy look again."

They sat together one the red sofa in the living room. John did not answer.

"Is it Sher-"

She avoided saying the name, because John had already looked at her in strange way by the sound of the first letter. Nevertheless he nodded almost not visible with his head as an answer. Mary sighed.

"It doesn't have to be always him." She said empathically and kissed him on his cheek.

John did not seem to notice the tenderness.

"It has to" he replied flatly. "It has to be always him otherwise I could not take it anymore. You know that."

Mary looked at him thoughtfully.

"It doesn't make fun when you're always so odd when we're meeting." She said, trying to be funny and shook John a bit.

For a very short moment John's corners of his mouth moved to a smile but it had not been a serious one.

"You seem to meet this Sherlock more often in your thoughts than with me in reality." Mary now said.

John opened his mouth to protest but no sound came out, because he knew that she was right.

"He was my best friend Mary." John said after a short moment of silence. "For almost two years, what do you think is the reason that I'm still thinking about him?"

One could not ignore the sarcasm.

"So we are in a three-person-relationship?!" Mary asked before she could stop herself.

John glared at her.

"He was my best friend! And he is dead!" He said angrily.

"Yes and that now for four years!" Mary now almost shouted at John. "He is gone John and it's not helping to remember always about him, with that you are hurting people and above all yourself! Maybe he was your best friend but please stop pretending that the most important man of the whole universe has died!"

She immediately knew it was wrong when she had said it.

John had not really reacted at first. Wordless he had risen from the sofa and stormed to the door. Without turning back to Mary once more he was gone.

He went on the lively street and right away searched for a cab. He did not have the strength now to walk all the way back to Baker Street, apart from that: Sherlock always had used those black cars to move through London.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, it was Monday, John slowly and still very tired stood up when his alarm clock had woke him up at eight o'clock in the morning. It had again been a troubled night, as usual, but after the row with Mary it had been very bad one this time. Hardly had he once found his sleep he was jerked out it right again by a falling Sherlock. John said down on the edge of his bed, took a few breaths and drove with his hands through his hair. He rose and dragged himself into the bathroom where he took a shower and then dressed to go to work.

He stood before the house door of 221B and immediately looked out for a cab that could bring him to work. Luckily one just drove around the corner and it seemed to be free.

"Taxi!" John shouted and holed up his hand as signal.

The black car stopped before him and John got in. He slowly sat down in the backseats of the cab and said:

"St. Bart's Hospital"

He hastily wanted to hang on a "Please" to appear not impolite but the car had already driven off and the young man who sat behind the wheel did not seem to take more notice auf him.

John had taken the job at Bart's so that he did not had to get used to a new situation and there also worked some people that he already knew. John had decided to use his medical knowledge to help other people so that they could help more. If he was not able to safe his best friend others should never make this experience. John looked dreamy out of the cab's window and closed his eyes.

The rooftop of the hospital. A falling Sherlock who had just talked a few seconds ago. The sound of flesh on asphalt. A red liquid covered Sherlock's head and changed the colour of the pavement. The feeling of the wrist in his hand on which he could not find any pulse.

John startled. He still sat in the cab but it did not seem to drive.

"We're there, sir." The cabbie said, he sounded a bit annoyed.

John hastily paid him, got out of the cab and headed to the front door of the hospital. He widely curved the place where the, although it was not visible anymore, blood of Sherlock had coloured the ground. With a starring looked fixed to the front door John went with a few steps inside although it always felt like 1000 steps.

John sometimes worked in that department of the hospital sometime in another one, because he had demanded as much variety in his job as possible and so he became some kind of a resident physician who worked there where someone needed some help. But most of the time he spend in the pathology with Molly. With her he felt most well and relaxed in this big hospital, because he knew that she was suffering with him and she has been one of the people that Sherlock actually liked; although he never admitted that.

Yes, so his day would be again today. Almost everybody managed his things alone and so John joined Molly who worked most of the time alone and so both of them had a good company at their work.

"What is it today Molly?" John asked when he stepped into the pathology with a white doctor's coat.

Molly smiled when she saw him but as always this smile had some kind of emptiness in itself.

"I don't know myself." She answered. "I have only read the files yet. I just wanted to take a look at him."

John followed her in the mortuary in which on some metal tables under white sheets were motionless corpses.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade wanted me to look at that one first." Molly said and went over to a corps that lay in the middle. "He's a young man, late twenties, found in St. James Park at nine o'clock two days ago."

While Molly read out the files in her hands John had removed the sheet. A young man with short, blond hair, a three-day-beard and with a very muscular build looked at them with closed eyes.

"He lived in Soho with his girlfriend, his name was Jarred H-"

She stopped abruptly at the last name; she did not want John to hear it. But unfortunately he had heard her and now looked up from the body.

"Jarred what?" he asked confused.

Molly did not want to read the name out loud, because she had known before John had come how he would react. But now John looked at her with curiosity and Molly saw no other way.

"Jarred Holmes" she said quietly.

John shrined back from the body.

"Is he- Is he a relative of…" he said with a shaky voice.

To his relief Molly shook her head.

"It doesn't say it here and Lestrade has already checked that by himself."

Although she had refuted John's worst thoughts, this apprehensive feeling had got him again. At work he always hoped to be distracted from thinking about Sherlock, so that he could at least rest for one moment at a day. Even with Molly he had managed to speak not about Sherlock all those years, although it had not always been easy.

John took the sheet and put it hastily back over the face of Jarred Holmes. He stepped back from the body and sat down onto a chair that was next to a table which stood at the window site of the room. Desperately he sank his head. He opened and closed his eyes a few times and drove through his hair. Molly put the files away and now stood beside him; she took his hand.

"I miss him too." She said quietly into his ear. "Every day more and more."

John just nodded as a sign that he had understand her. He was not the only one who missed Sherlock that much. Molly felt the same way, she seemed to share this depressed feeling with him. John looked up to Molly who gave him, this time, a gentle and console smile, then he pressed her hand slightly that still was in his and rose.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a few days later. John came once again back from the supermarket. Since Sherlock had gone he seemed to eat more to distract himself but until now he had ignored that he had put on three pounds. Especially the milk was the thing he was attached to the most and this of course had to do with Sherlock again who back then had always needed milk almost every day. For what John had never found out but it brought him again old memories that made him smile.

But right now John was not able to smile, because he tried with two full hands to open the front door. He could not knock for Mrs. Hudson this time, because she had told him that she would have a night out. John finally managed it to open the door without losing his bags and climbed up the stairs to his flat. Here he also opened the door with a bit effort and went into it. He put the bags at first beside the door before he took of his jacket that he wanted to hang on a coat hook but then

"Oh good, you did the shopping."

John led drop his jacket on the ground; his hands did not obey him anymore.

"What… what… what the…"

He was not able to speak out an entire sentence, because there were no words that could describe what he thought and felt right now.

"I hope you bought some coffee, I'm dying of first." Sherlock said while he was looking through his microscope.

John walked a few steps toward the kitchen and blinked for a long moment to concentrate. It could not be true! He had jumped from an over fifteen metres high building into death; his blood had covered his whole face!

"Who are you?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

"What's that question for, you know who I am." Sherlock answered who looked slightly confused up a bit from his microscope.

John glared at him and did not reply anything.

"Sherlock Holmes" Sherlock now said.

"No, you're not!" John said. "Sherlock Holmes died four years ago, I have seen it myself."

Sherlock smiled mockingly for a moment then he said:

"As always you see but you do not observe."

John could not move. Like a lightning the realization flashed his mind at this striking sentence.

Sherlock had rose from the chair at the kitchen table and wanted to go to the sofa in the living room. Without a warning and restraint John's fist hit his face, directly onto the nose. Sherlock groaned and staggered a few steps back.

"What was that for?!" he said indignant while he hold with a hand his bleeding nose.

"YOU STUPID BASTARD!" John suddenly screamed at him. "FOUR YEARS, FOUR FUCKING YEARS, SHERLOCK! YOU KNOW HOW THIS FEELS?!"

He raised his fist again but Sherlock raised his hand.

"Calm yourself down John!" Sherlock said. "I know how you're feeling and you-"

"NO, YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" John yelled his fist still up. "EVERY DAY, EVERY DAMNED DAY I HOPED THAT YOU WOULD COME BACK, I'VE IMAGINED MANY THINGS, ALL THE TIME I HAVE TORTURED MYSELF WITH OLD MEMORIES, BECAUSE I WAS NOT ABLE TO LIFE WITHOUT THEM!"

He had to take a breath and Sherlock used that moment to say something as well.

"John please listen to me, I can explain everything."

John already had opened his mouth once more but he closed it again and led Sherlock speak. He sat in an armchair, Sherlock sat into the other one opposite to him.

"I had to disappear John, there was no other way, Moriarty hadn't left me any other opportunity back then. If I hadn't jumped you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would have been shot."

"You had no pulse!" John now said with pressure in his voice.

"A very strong drug Molly had given me slows the body completely down for an hour, every activity of the body in the inside work on a minimum. I took it before I confronted Moriarty, so it's possible that one can feel now pulse for a moment." Sherlock explained simply.

"You jumped of a building that was more than fifteen metres high! One cannot survive something like this so easily!" John replied but now his voice was a bit calmer, although still angry.

"You know that martial arts are acquainting to me?" Sherlock asked him.

John answered with a slight nod.

"There is a special posture that one can use when falling of high places. So I managed it to get not injured too much." Sherlock said.

John was silent for a moment, he was thinking.

"Your face was covered in blood, how did you manage that?" he eventually asked. "You can't tell me that you done this during the fall."

Sherlock laughed again for moment but then quickly answered:

"The first passer-by who ran to me before all others was one of the homeless people. He hastily put some fake blood on my face while he pretended to look if I was still alive or not."

Again he had a suitable answer that John could not contradict.

"And the blood on the pavement came from a little plastic bag that I had hid in my coat. It got destroyed by the impact." Sherlock said before John had the chance to ask.

But the doctor had already found another question that he wanted to be explained.

"Your body was burned and buried in a urn. There was a gravestone with your name on it!"

"I know, I saw you there with Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock answered. "But there was never a body cremated and buried. Mycroft and I had discussed this with the undertaker my brother had organized."

Of course Mycroft had to be involved in it as well.

John starred motionless at him and did not say a thing. He sat there dumb and looked into Sherlock's grey, hawk-like eyes; it was exact the same grey like it has been four years ago.

"Why did you have to leave so long?" he said as he thought this and it was the question that was on his mind for the whole time.

Sherlock led a moment pass before he answered.

"I would have liked to come back earlier." He admitted and there was the tone of an apology in his deep voice. "But there were various reasons that hold me up to come until now."

"Okay, give me." John replied; he sounded calm and curious.

"The whole situation had to calm down first." Sherlock began. "Moriarty's people really had to believe that I was dead. And the press had to calm down as well. So I disappeared for a time without telling anybody."

"But Molly knew that you were alive, or not?" John interrupted him.

Sherlock nodded.

"But she promised me not to say word, but apart from that she also didn't know when I would come back."

"And what about Moriarty's men? They will definitely remember you." John said concerned.

"Do you think that I have done nothing in these four years?" Sherlock replied. "The police have arrested the most dangerous ones with my help. But obviously they didn't know that, I had to remain unknown."

John now just continued to nod as sign that he had understand. All his questions had been explained. It really was Sherlock who sat there in front of him and had put his hands together while he had spoken how he always did it.

Because John was not saying anything else Sherlock stood up and wanted to go back to his working place in the kitchen but John also had risen up and, without the other one could stop it, hugged Sherlock. Sherlock was at first completely surprised by this but then he slightly pated John's back, because he was not quite sure what he should do in such a situation.

"Okay, I think we're done now John." Sherlock said after a few seconds and pushed John gently away from him.

"It's just great to have you back." John said slowly and sounded a bit embarrassed.

Sherlock gave him short and mild smile then he went back to his microscope while John sat back into the armchair and grabbed his computer. He opened his blog and began to type right away what he had not done for four years. Sherlock looked at him and had to smile, it felt great to be back at this familiar place with a man who did not think that he was psychopath and who was a real friend.

"It's good to be back." He said and before John could turn around to reply anything he had sunk into his work again.


	6. Chapter 6

"You took your time." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, I paid Mary a short visit." John answered.

He put the milk into the fridge and started to make a tea for him and Sherlock.

"To be honest" John said hesitantly. "There is something I should tell you."

Sherlock who had lain on the sofa now sat up and looked at him confused but also curious. John said next to him into an armchair.

"It's about Mary." John began. "She said-"

"You do not actually believe that I'm helping you with your relationship problems?" Sherlock interrupted him slightly concerned.

"Of course not." John answered immediately but still had to smile. "It's just about what Mary and I have just discussed and I want you to hear that."

Sherlock absolutely not intended to hear John's discussions with his girlfriend but as it would seem he had no other opportunity.

"Of course I have told Mary that you came back but I noticed that she seemed not to be so entirely happy about that. But naturally she was really pleased that I finally don't walk around so desperate anymore."

John was a bit embarrassed by his own words and looked on the ground but Sherlock did not move a muscle.

"John" Sherlock said a bit hesitantly. "You know very well that I am not the kind of man that listens to-"

"No" John said. "Just listen to me please."

Sherlock sighed and lend back on the sofa.

"Mary said that she wants to get married." John finally said.

Sherlock seemed to be confused for a second.

"What, Mary asked _you_ to get married?" he asked mockingly. "Do you not feel a bit embarrassed when the woman proposes to you?"

John ignored that and went on.

"I really was surprised by that and I have to admit that I wasn't really prepared to it although I have thought about that kind of scenario a few times back then. But since you have come back I have changed my mind totally about that."

He made a pause, searched for the rights words so that Sherlock could really understand him.

"Does this mean you leave the Baker Street?" Sherlock now asked and could not hide entirely the disappointment in his voice.

"I said no."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked confused.

"I said no to Mary." John admitted with a quiet voice. "I will not marry her."

There was a moment of silence in 221B.

"Not yet." John added hesitantly.

"And what do you mean with that?"

"I can't leave Baker Street now." John began cautiously. "I told Mary that I can't do this, because…"

He struggled with the words; he did not know how to say it.

"Because you're back now for just two weeks." John now eventually said.

Sherlock did not reply anything apart from a surprised and confused face.

"You have been away for four years." John explained. "It weren't pleasant years for me."

Sherlock looked for a very short moment guilty on the ground.

"That's why can't just leave you now. We haven't seen each other for four years there is a lot of time that we have to make up." John said smiling. "I still need you and I also told that Mary but I'm not quite sure if she has understood me completely but I hope so."

"So you're not going to get married?" Sherlock now asked, also smiling a bit.

"For the moment absolutely not." John answered.

Both fell silent again. Neither of them really seemed to know what they should say next.

"Glad to hear" Sherlock finally said and rose from the sofa while John was still looking at him with a puzzled expression.

He went into the kitchen and sat at his workplace.

"Thank you" Sherlock said.


End file.
